Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

Beijing, Office of the Director of the China National Space Administration.

Sunlight streamed through the bright French windows, illuminating the large mahogany desk. The red, secure telephone, representing the highest levels of global authority, was currently on speakerphone.

On the other end of the phone, the US president's voice was hoarse, as if it had been rubbed hard on sandpaper. His voice, thick with sobs and despair, echoed mournfully in the spacious office.

"Director Shen... please, for God's sake, help us out!"

"If you're willing to lend us one trillion RMB to stabilize the market and quell the domestic unrest, we'll agree to any conditions! We're willing to mortgage Alaska to China! Along with all its mineral resources, ports, and military bases, it'll all be yours!"

Shen Jinghong leaned back in the large leather chair, holding the enamel teacup she had used for decades.

He slowly blew away the foam on the surface of the water, took a sip of tea, and didn't even lift his eyelids.

"One trillion RMB? And they're even using Alaska as collateral?"

Shen Jinghong chuckled softly, her laughter carrying a haughty mockery, as if she were listening to the biggest joke in the world.

"Mr. President, do you seem to have some misunderstanding about the purchasing power of our RMB? What's Alaska worth these days, besides ice and a few emaciated polar bears?"

The person on the other end of the phone paused abruptly, followed by an even more humble, almost begging plea.

"Director Shen! If America completely collapses, the global economy will be affected! You can't just stand by and watch it die! If you nod your head, I'll fly to Beijing immediately and kneel down to you in person!"

"Should we just stand by and watch someone die?"

The smile on Shen Jinghong's face vanished instantly, and a chilling killing intent erupted from his eyes.

He slammed the teacup onto the table with a loud thud, which made Chen Weiguo, who was standing next to him, instinctively straighten his back.

"Mr. President, when you imposed a comprehensive embargo and blocked us from the whole world, why didn't you talk about the global economy?"

"When you sailed your aircraft carrier to our doorstep to swagger around and even threatened us with nuclear weapons, did you ever imagine this day would come?"

Shen Jinghong stood up, placed her hands on the table, and slammed her judgment into the microphone, each word piercing the heart:

"What goes around comes around, and no one escapes the wrath of Heaven."

"You drained the world of its blood to maintain your hegemony, and now you're simply giving back what you've ingested, with interest. This is karma!"

"Want help? Go ask the wronged souls you've oppressed in the underworld if they'll agree!"

After saying that, Shen Jinghong didn't give the other party any chance to refute and directly reached out and hung up the communication.

"Snapped!"

The red button cut off the radio waves, and also completely severed the last vestige of hope for that superpower.

A deathly silence returned to the office.

Chen Weiguo stood to the side, his face flushed with excitement, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. Looking at his bureau chief's imposing figure, he felt his blood boiling.

"Chief, that was a satisfying scolding! These foreign devils are finally begging us on their knees!"

Shen Jinghong remained silent.

He looked up at the huge holographic screen on the wall.

The screen was showing live footage of Times Square in New York. Flames were shooting into the sky, thick smoke was billowing, and the once-arrogant Wall Street elites were now fighting tooth and nail in the street over half a moldy loaf of bread.

In the distance, outside the White House, angry mobs had broken through the iron fence, and the Stars and Stripes were reduced to ashes in the flames.

That empire that once rode on the backs of the world and acted arrogantly has finally been reduced to utter ruins.

"call……"

Shen Jinghong let out a long breath, feeling as if the boulder that had been pressing on his chest for decades had finally shattered.

"This century-old debt has been completely settled."

He turned around, his eyes revealing a sense of world-weariness and acceptance that had been washed away from him.

Lin Qinghan walked over with a cup of hot milk and gently placed it beside him. She looked at the image on the screen, then at Shen Jinghong's resolute profile, her cool eyes filled with heartache and pride.

"Jinghong, it's over. We won."

Just then, the office door was gently pushed open.

Several top leaders with gray hair walked in slowly, accompanied by their guards.

They didn't send anyone to announce their arrival; they simply stood quietly at the door, watching the man who had single-handedly propelled China to the pinnacle of the world. They watched him transform from a spirited young man into the swordsman who now controlled the entire globe.

The leader stepped forward, his gaze falling on the streaks of white that had appeared at Shen Jinghong's temples.

The leader's eyes reddened slightly. He reached out his calloused hand and patted Shen Jinghong's shoulder heavily, letting out a long sigh.

"Jinghong, things have calmed down outside, it's time for you to rest."